


Arrangements

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics)
Genre: M/M, flower shop au, quickbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2602124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pietro Maximoff is a florist, and Remy is his repeat customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haisai_andagii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haisai_andagii/gifts).



> Right, so this is based off a tumblr prompt for uncommon au's: "i’m a florist and you keep buying flowers from me and what do you mean it was my fault we didn’t get together earlier you were buying flowers i assumed you had a lover au." So the following is basically this, minus Remy telling Pietro that it's his fault they didn't get together earlier. 
> 
> I also don't know anything about flowers, but I do know about Pietro's high standards.

"I want something," Remy made a vague gesture, "that encompasses my feelings." 

"Which are?" Pietro was leaning against the counter looking annoyed. Remy would’ve been more intimidated if he hadn’t been surrounded by colorful flowers. 

"Hmmm, I think, something like, ‘I want ta charm the pants off of you because I find you attractive.’" 

Pietro raised an eyebrow. “You want a flirting bouquet?” 

"Exactly!" Remy grinned. "That’s just the thing I need! So how long’ll it be?" 

*

Pietro Maximoff was the best florist in town. He worked fast, and he had a keen eye for detail. He was a bit of a perfectionist, which was why all of his arrangements looked fantastic, and all of his plants were extremely healthy and vibrant. 

Remy had seen him once at a party he’d been invited to, setting up little pots of flowers for decoration. His friend, Anna-Marie, told him that Pietro was the best in town. 

“Why's he got white hair?” Remy had asked her. “He's not old. Does he dye it?” 

“Genetic mutation,” Anna-Marie said. “Anyway if you’re looking ta impress, he’s the one you go to. Even the people who don’t like flowers love his flowers.” 

Remy was always looking to impress. So he decided to give Pietro’s shop a try. 

*

The following week Remy returned to the shop. He’d never seen anyone besides Pietro working there. He was behind the counter, flipping through a book. Remy strode over.

"It’s you," Pietro said when he looked up.

"I know I’m unforgettable," Remy said. "It’s my charm."

"I remember you as the infuriatingly vague customer," Pietro said.

"Afternoon ta you too," Remy said, and then frowned. "Wait—vague in what way?"

"What do you want?" Pietro asked.

"Another bouquet," Remy said. "This one with sort of a, we know each other a little better and I like you, so let’s keep on seeing each other kinda vibe."

"A bouquet for asking someone out," Pietro said. He took a moment to think about it. "You do realize that most people specify which flowers or colors they’d like?" 

"I’m not most people," Remy said, winking.

Pietro rolled his eyes. “Ten minutes.”

"I’ll wait here." Remy leaned against the counter. "I wanna see how you do it."

Pietro was already walking towards his many flowers. “I take several different types of flowers,” he said, “and put them together. Wrap them up. Hand them to you. It’s not terribly exciting.”

"But you got an eye for design," Remy said. He noticed how tense Pietro looked, the severe straight-line of his back as he contemplated his possible selections. It was kind of cute, that he didn’t like being watched. 

“To explain the particulars of the craft would take far more time than I'm willing to spend,” Pietro said. “Don't you have someone to shamelessly flirt with while you're waiting?” 

“Hard ta get,” Remy said. 

“Not everyone is as easy as you'd like them to be,” Pietro said, plucking several flowers from their holders. 

“Who says I like 'em easy?” 

“Your type always does.” 

“My type?” Remy leaned over the counter, trying to catch Pietro's eye. But Pietro was absorbed in his flowers. “What's that?” 

Pietro strode over to him, bouquet in hand, and shoved the flowers across the counter. Remy smirked as he handed him several crisp bills. 

“I hope that's suitable,” Pietro said. 

“More than.” 

*

The following week Remy was back again. When Pietro saw him he rolled his eyes and said, “Let me guess: this time you want an arrangement that will convince your former partner to take you back, flaws and all.” 

“I appreciate your confidence in my relationship,” Remy said. “But you're wrong, just so you know.” 

Pietro actually looked mildly surprised. “That they've kept you for this long is impressive.” 

“Anyway,” Remy said, “this time I'd like one that says that we've made it this far, and I really think this is a thing.” 

“A thing,” Pietro repeated. “How nice.” 

“S'better than not a thing,” Remy said. The look Pietro gave him before he went to make the arrangement was the most judgmental look that Remy had ever received from anyone. 

“I suppose I can't expect you to leave,” he said. 

“Nope.” Remy grinned. “So why're you inta flowers anyway?” 

“I like design,” Pietro said, “and people need flowers. The combination makes for good business.” 

“But do you like flowers?” 

Pietro turned to him briefly, holding two white flowers and a pink one. “What do you think?” 

Remy folded his arms over his chest. “I think you're being difficult.” 

“Says the man who can't specify exactly what he wants in his romantic flower arrangements,” Pietro said. 

“And you still know exactly what I want,” Remy pointed out. “Anyone else work with you?” 

“No,” Pietro said. “The only way to guarantee consistent quality is to do it myself.” 

“Assuming you produce high quality every time,” Remy drawled. 

Pietro turned around again, raising an eyebrow. “I do.” 

*

The week after, Pietro was on the floor cutting flowers when Remy walked in and said, “Okay, for this week--” 

“I thought you weren't coming back,” Pietro said from the floor. 

“You thought wrong,” Remy said. 

Pietro stood up and folded his arms over his chest. “What now?” 

“You ever heard of customer service skills?,” Remy said. Pietro glared at him, so he decided to plow ahead. “This time--”

“Should I just ask after the state of your relationship,” Pietro interrupted, “since anything else you give me will be completely useless.” 

“You could,” Remy said with a shrug. “But I was thinking, this time, of something that says, I've fallen hard for you.”

Pietro stared at him, then blinked. “Right. That is incredibly unhelpful.” 

“It's just like all the other stuff I've been telling you,” Remy said. 

“All of which has been unhelpful,” Pietro said, but he spun around and strode over to his flowers, pausing in front of them to consider his choices. 

“I dunno about that,” Remy said. “I think I'm getting my point across.” 

For a moment Pietro was silent. Then he said, “Your relationship is serious?” 

“Not sure,” Remy said. “But I'm serious about it.” 

“I see.” Pietro remained still. 

“Come on,” Remy said, leaning forward. “It's not that difficult ta believe, is it?” 

Pietro began picking flowers. “You used to date that woman with the interesting hair, didn't you? I've seen you around. With several women and men, actually. The last was the one with the interesting hair.”

“You're one ta talk,” Remy said. Then he frowned. “You noticed me?” 

“Don't flatter yourself,” Pietro said, gathering some ribbon. “I notice everyone. My sister knows everyone.” 

Remy's eyebrows shot up. “You have a sister?” 

Pietro paused in tying the ribbon. “Perhaps.” 

“For your information,” Remy said, “I am perfectly capable of being in a long term relationship. I don't just change women every day for the fun of it.” 

Pietro hummed and turned around, presenting Remy with a small bouquet entirely composed of what looked like deep red roses and Queen Anne's lace. Remy took the flowers and paid, and watched Pietro as he made to turn around. But then he realized Remy was still there, and paused. 

“Why are you still here?” 

“About these flowers,” Remy said, holding them out. 

Pietro stared at the offered bouquet. “Is it unsatisfactory?” 

“Non,” Remy said. “For you.” 

“What.” Pietro took the flowers back, but his eyes were on Remy. 

“I wanted ta get ta know you better,” Remy said. He could feel his cheeks going red at the complete confusion and disbelief on Pietro's face. “I thought if I asked you for flowers, chatted with you a bit, you'd actually give me the time of day. Which you did. So.” He gestured to the flowers. 

“You have a partner,” Pietro said stiffly, looking away. 

“I don't,” Remy insisted. He walked around the counter and stopped just short of Pietro. The bouquet hung limply from his right hand. “It was just a way ta talk ta you. I couldn't think of another reason ta be in a flower shop except ta order flowers. But they were all for you.” 

“This is a joke,” Pietro said. 

“No joke.” Remy put his hand on Pietro's arm and tried to bring him closer. “I promise you that.” 

"Hold on," Pietro said, pulling away and narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been having me make bouquets for myself, from you, while making me think they were for someone else?" 

"Yes," Remy said. 

"And yet you had me give them to you, so I never got to keep my own bouquets?" 

"Yeah," Remy said, "but I paid you which seemed like a good substitute for you not getting ta keep your own flowers."

"How romantic," Pietro said. 

Remy rubbed his neck, grimacing. “Yeah, I didn’t think it through.” 

"You didn’t think it through for weeks," Pietro pointed out. 

"Yeah…" 

“If this is a joke--”

This time Remy succeeded in pulling Pietro close, so they were practically nose-to-nose. “Hold on. If you don't want this ta be a joke so bad...that means you like me?” 

Pietro attempted to pull away again. “Don't be ridic--” 

Remy pressed his mouth against Pietro's to shut him up. Pietro made a muffled noise of shock, and Remy responded by putting an arm around Pietro's waist. Pietro deepened the kiss for a moment; then he grabbed Remy's hair with his free hand and pulled back, forcing them apart to scrutinize Remy's face. Remy was grinning. Widely. 

“I guess that settles that question,” he gasped. 

“Shut up,” Pietro murmured, pushing Remy into the nearest wall so that they were hidden from the main shop by a display of plants. 

The bouquet slipped from Pietro's hand and fell to the floor.


End file.
